


seven-eleven

by nosrav



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Steve Harrington, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, dustin is a mess ):, its reasonable tho bc kids been thru some shit!, rated teen for lots of f-bombs (dustin's fault)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 16:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19276675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosrav/pseuds/nosrav
Summary: Somewhere the back of his mind, past the daze of sleepiness, Steve knows that if someone is calling his house at this hour, it must be important. Anyone trying to reach his parents should know by now that calling the house phone is a fruitless endeavor.So whoever is calling must be calling for him.Nobody would call except his friends.All his friends are middle schoolers.And it's 2 AM.He can't let it ring straight through. Blame it on his newfound maternal instincts.





	seven-eleven

**Author's Note:**

> hello (: this is my first time writing stranger things fic and its probably my first published/thought out fic in like...years. so please dont bully me lmao. i tried to capture their voices as best as i could but if its ooc dont kill me please sksksj. basically i love these two as an older brother & younger brother duo and decided to write a fic! let me know if i should continue and have them go on their little late-night run lol (:

It's 2 AM when the phone rings.

At first, Steve seriously debates letting it ring straight through until it stops without ever answering. Seriously, who the hell calls someone this damn early? ...Late?  
'It doesn't matter,' Steve thinks. 'I was fucking sleeping.'  
He picks his pillow back up and slams it over his head, covering his ears with an annoyed groan.

The phone keeps ringing. 

Somewhere the back of his mind, past the daze of sleepiness, Steve knows that if someone is calling his house at this hour, it must be important. Anyone trying to reach his parents should know by now that calling the house phone is a fruitless endeavor.  
So whoever is calling must be calling for him.  
Nobody would call except his friends.  
All his friends are middle schoolers.  
And it's 2 AM.

He can't let it ring straight through. Blame it on his newfound maternal instincts. 

He reaches out blindly for the phone on his bedside table, flinging his pillow to the floor and turning on his lamp. He's still a little pissed. He was sleeping well. That doesnt happen often these days.

"Steve Harrington," he says as his greeting, trying in vain to scrub the sleep out of his eyes with his unoccupied hand. "This better be good."  
It's quiet on the end of the phone for a beat, followed not long after by a small hiccup. The kind you get when you hold back tears.

"What-" Steve begins.

"I'm sorry," comes the voice from the other end of the phone, and Steve can hear sniffles. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have called."  
Steve is struck a bit dumb.

"Dustin?"

A mirthless laugh comes from the other end of the line. It sounds more like a sob. "Yeah, buddy. Dustin. I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll hang up now-"

"No!" Steve says, suddenly desperate for Dustin to stay on the phone. "You're crying. Why are you crying?"

"I told you, man. I shouldn't have called. It's nothing."

"Bullshit. Talk to me right now or I'm driving to your house to make you talk." He means to say it as a joke, but once it leaves his mouth, he knows in a heartbeat that he would. He would absolutely leave his house in the dead of night, in his pajamas, to go make sure an 8th grader is okay. He would bemoan the current state of his life if it wasn't heaps better than it was a few weeks ago.

Dustin sniffles and hiccups for a bit and Steve swears the sound is carving a hole into his heart. With a spoon.

"I uh.... I can't sleep."

There's another beat of silence before Steve can think of a proper response. Dustin beats him to the punch.

"That's a lie. I can sleep. I can fall asleep. I just can't stay asleep."

He's starting to prattle on and get embarrassed; Steve can tell. He's rambling.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry for calling you this late. Jesus. Fuck. Sorry."

His voice sounds a tad bit more distant. He's about to hang up.

"Wait!" Steve yells, finally finding his voice again.  
Dustin doesn't respond but Steve can still hear him crying. He's moved the phone back up to his ear.  
"I've been having nightmares, too." He knows Dustin must be wondering how he got to that conclusion.

"...How did you-"

"I'm not dumb. I understand. I seriously do understand."

"Have you really been..."

"Yes," Steve sighs out with relief, knowing Dustin won't hang up anymore. He's got him interested. "Almost every night."

"Yeah," Dustin agrees, his crying seeming to lessen now that he doesn't feel so isolated. "Me too."

"I figured," Steve says. "You know, it helps to talk about it."

Dustin sucks in a quick, sharp breath. "Oh, I don't think that's, uh, I just don't think that-"

"You don't have to if you don't want to, man."

Dustin stops his nervous chatter. 

"But I want them to stop," He says a few seconds later in such a small, timid voice that Steve genuinely thinks his heart is broken. 

"I can tell you about mine."

Instantly, he regrets his words.  
It's not that he doesn't think he can confide in the kid, and it's not that he's scared to rehash his own bad dreams, but he finally understands Dustin's embarrassment. It's humiliating. 

"O-okay."

Fuck.

"Um, basically I, uh, I mostly have them about... everything we dealt with like two weeks ago. And I have them about the demogorgon Nancy and I fought last year. With Johnathan."

Silence. Dustin is listening with rapt attention.

"I just worry about things going sideways. You know, it coud've gone so downhill so quickly."

"Yeah," Dustin says softly. "I understand."

An awkard silence lapses. Steve realizes that the kid wants him to keep talking.

"I have dreams about you," Steve says honestly, before he can stop himself.

"What if you hadn't been so lucky with Dart? In the tunnel? What if I hadn't been able to stop Billy when he came looking for Max and he ended up turning on you and the other kids? What if when we were in the underground tunnels and the demo-dogs came running by, they didn't just run right past? What if we got, like, mauled, man? That's what I dream about. It scares the shit out of me."

This phone call has no shortage of awkward silences. 

"It wouldn't have been your fault, Steve."

Steve scoffs. "Yes. It would have."

"No," Dustin says, his voice cracking. "If we got mauled, it would have been my fault."

He's openly crying at this point.

"I was the one who made you come help me find Dart. I was the one who dragged you back into this mess. I'm the one who put you in the car when Billy beat the shit out of you and you were knocked out-"

"Jesus, he didn't get me that bad, dude-"

"And if anything happened to you it would have been my fucking fault!"

Steve is definitely not used to consoling a hysterical 13-year old. Especially not over the phone. And Dustin is definitely hysterical. 

Steve can hear him trying to hold back his tears. It's not working. His breath is coming out in quick little bursts of air and he's doing the small crying-hiccups again. He can't even form words. Just tiny cries.

"Dustin. Dustin!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I could've killed you, I was so stupid," He suddenly says inbetween gasps for air. "You could be dead right now. Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry. Steve, forgive me. Forgive me. I couldn't handle it. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anyone got hurt, Steve. Please forgive me."

"Woah, hey, I forgive you! I never blamed you in the first place. I never even thought about it."

Another wail from Dustin breaks through the speaker.

"You're too nice. I don't- I don't deserve it. I'm a fucking idiot."

"Stop!" Steve yells, his heart is beating too quickly to hear any of this from his friend anymore. "You're tearing me up, man, don't say that shit about yourself. You're just a kid, you're bound to make some mistakes. Lord knows I have. Some of them not even that long ago!" His mind makes a sudden flash back to about a year ago with some choice words spray-painted to a movie theater sign. "It's okay. It's okay, Dustin. We're all okay. I'm okay. Everything worked out fine. None of that shit you dreamed about is true. Don't let it get to your head, okay? It's not real."

"But it feels real," Dustin sniffles.

"No, buddy. I know. But this is what's real. This right here is real, okay?"

Silence.

"Okay, Dustin?"

"Yeah, shit. Sorry. I nodded."

Steve chuckles in spite of the tense atmosphere. "You're a character."

Dustin groans and swipes at his eyes. "God, I'm too emotional to go back to sleep."

Now that he thinks about it, Steve agrees.

"Yeah, me too. Your mom asleep?"

"Mhm," Dustin confirms. "She clocked out at about 9:30."

"Sheesh," Steve says, holding the phone between his jaw and his shoulder while using his hands to pull on a dirty pair of jeans he had laid beside his bed. "Do you wanna ride with me to get some snacks at 7-Eleven? They're open twenty four hours."

"I'll come with but I don't have any cash. Spent the last of my change at the arcade the other day."

"You kidding me, Dusty? I'm buying. Get whatever you want, my treat."

"You're joking."

"No jokes," Steve amends. "Change out of your pajamas and get dressed because I'll be there in ten."

"You're the best. You're the fucking best, Harrington. God."

"Not God, just Steve. See you in a minute, nerd."

And with that, he hangs up.


End file.
